


The One With The Fedora

by elpinkerton



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, brendon urie - Fandom, patrick stump - Fandom
Genre: Drinks With Friends, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, LP spree, Smut, a reunion, mixtapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-05 03:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elpinkerton/pseuds/elpinkerton
Summary: This chapter is set in November 2012. Fall Out Boy have been on hiatus since 2009 and no one knows they are weeks away from announcing their reunion, new album and tour, all in one day. Brendon has been researching (i.e. partying) for the upcoming release of Panic's album Too Weird to Live, Too Rare to Die. Allie (OFC) and Brendon went to school together, she is an up and coming photographer who travels a lot for work and is only vaguely aware of any kind of mid-2000s emo scene. She keeps in touch with Brendon and some of her old friends from Vegas, but is moving to LA.





	1. Things Have Changed

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is set in November 2012. Fall Out Boy have been on hiatus since 2009 and no one knows they are weeks away from announcing their reunion, new album and tour, all in one day. Brendon has been researching (i.e. partying) for the upcoming release of Panic's album Too Weird to Live, Too Rare to Die. Allie (OFC) and Brendon went to school together, she is an up and coming photographer who travels a lot for work and is only vaguely aware of any kind of mid-2000s emo scene. She keeps in touch with Brendon and some of her old friends from Vegas, but is moving to LA.

November 2012, Los Angeles, Brendon’s apartment.

“He’s ruined all other men for me! I just keep comparing them to him.” Allie flopped down on Brendon’s couch dramatically. She dumped her bag, kicked off her Converse and sighed. Reclining on the couch opposite, Brendon kept his eyes on the screen, playing one of his favourite Nintendo classics. It wasn’t that he was unsympathetic, far from it, but they had been here before.  
“Dude, it’s only been like, six months or so since the last time you split up. You’ll get there. But that’s it this time, right? The end of all things Richard Flowers?”

“I dunno, I’ve got a feeling he’ll keep reeling me back in.” She sighed. “At least I’m not broken-hearted any more. I’m just kinda pissed off. I haven’t met anyone that’s enough of a distraction. Plus, my confidence is kinda shot.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up. You’ll meet someone when the time’s right.” Brendon’s thumbs nimbly worked the controls. “You did the right thing getting out of Vegas for a while, that place can swallow you up.”

“Yeah, I guess, it’s just...”

“Come here, doll,” he pulled her in for a big hug, his bare arms enveloping her. “It’s good to see you.” 

“You too.” She breathed in, noting a faint trace of weed on his skin, mixed with his familiar scent, and she began to unwind a little. 

“And I know you miss him but the time for being sad is officially over! We’re gonna hang out. Be just like old times. We’ll put a smile on your face, don’t worry. Here, I’ve had a head start so you need to catch up!” He poured her a shot of Jameson and no sooner had she downed it with a burning cough than he handed her another. “Cheers! Down the hatch!” He drank a shot himself this time too and motioned for her to drink up. She grimaced but knocked the second shot back like a trooper, and then spluttered for water.

“Nope! Beer.” Brendon grinned demonically and patted her back. “You’re out of practice. You need a night out with the girls, or something.” 

Allie made her way over to the kitchen area and helped herself to a glass of water.

“I know, right?! Everyone back home is either too busy wedding planning or too pregnant! Oh, speaking of, remember Jenny Lewis?” She said, eyes narrowing conspiratorially.

“Jenny Lewis, Jenny Lewis...” Brendon frowned, searching his high school memory banks for a clue, then clicked his fingers. “Biology class?”

“Yeah yeah, well, she’s on her fourth pregnancy - can you believe that? She’s 26 with 3 kids and another on the way.” Allie shook her head.

“Yup. Gotta love the LDS.” 

“Yeah well, the Mormon kids aside, I can’t believe some of the kids we hung out with have kids of their own. Everyone’s settling down and then there’s us...”

“Living the dream baby, woo!”

“You might be, I’m just, I dunno…”

“You’ve got your show coming up! You’ve talked about getting your work in a proper gallery since forever, that’s not nothing!”

She was touched he’d remembered. She had always wanted that. And even though something was missing, now wasn’t the time for wallowing. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you didn’t invite me over to be Buzz Killington.”

“Exactly. So if you fix your attitude I’ll let you watch me play video games and bring me beers.”

She snorted her indignation.

“Babe, beer me.” He demanded, coyly cocking an eyebrow at her. She could never resist those eyes. He always put them to good effect whether it was puppy dog adorable or downright suggestive. She scoffed but realised she was sounding like a spoiled brat and decided she might as well get herself a drink as well and get cosy. She was determined to have a good night with her friend and not end up pining over her ex.

She brought their drinks over and sat on the couch opposite him, watching him play for a little bit, the 8-bit music at odds with the modern surroundings. Elements of the same boy she grew up with remained, but he was blossoming into a rather magnificent swan, becoming much more comfortable in his own skin. At school he was such an awkward goober – a ball of nervous energy and braces and prone to showing off. He was inoffensive to the girls, which made him very offensive to some of the boys who liked to reassure their own masculinity by making his life a misery. Resilient as ever though, and born to be a star, he had risen above his underdog status and was proving he could do pretty well, even in the face of adversity. It didn’t appear to have dampened his spirits. If anything, it made him want it more, made him fight harder.

She kept the drinks flowing for both of them while they chatted and she felt a warm fuzz fill the apartment as she relaxed. “How’s the writing going? Been working today?” 

“Yup.” He swigged, put the bottle down and picked up the controller again, eyes glued to the screen on the wall. 

She glanced at the empty bottles and pizza box on the table. “Looks like hard work,” she teased.

“Even a genius like me needs to take a break, doll. Besides it’s almost done. Starting recording next week.” He threw down the controller triumphantly after Sonic Blast Man finished defeating another bunch of bad guys.

Allie watched him drink again, paying more attention than she had intended to his full lips. He’d always had those but they fit his face better now. His glasses were more sophisticated, his hair smart and short on the sides, although it still constantly flopped over his forehead. Was there the hint of muscle definition over his arms and shoulders now? She eyed the pull-up bar fitted in the doorway and looked back at the bicep he was now pretending not to flex as he stood up and stretched his arms up and behind his head.  
“Checking out the gun show?” He gave her a sly, sideways look. He never missed a beat. He’d always been hyper aware of other people’s body language and was good at adjusting his own to fit, or not, depending on how comfortable or uncomfortable he wanted to make them. 

She laughed, knowing she wouldn’t get away with lying or covering it up. “I guess I haven’t seen you in a while - you’re looking good!” She said it despite feeling flushed.

“Well maybe while you’re in LA you can shoot me.” He winked. “Do some, y’know, glamour shots?” He posed seductively then flopped down purposely too close to her, giving her a goofy, cross-eyed grin.

“Not sure how you fit into my motherhood series.” She pushed him back to a more acceptable distance. “Maybe I could do some work on the long-term effects of drugs and alcohol,” she teased.  
“Especially since you’ve developed a new-found affection for our home town... and partying,” she said with a smirk, but realising she had no right to take any kind of moral high ground here as she lined up more shots and more beers. 

“I’ve been getting inspiration! And you know you should have been partying with me, instead of moping about.”

“Last time I went out drinking with you, Brendon Boyd Urie, I ended up in really big trouble!”

“Wait, what happened?”

“Remember that time last year when we were both back home and a bunch of us went out on the Strip?”

“Oh that time!” They both blushed at the memory best left in the past. She cleared her throat.

“Yeah, well. Richard somehow got it in his head that something might have happened between me and you, and he got so worked up about it he, uh, punched through the dry wall.”

“Oh. Yeah. You did tell me about that. That’s kinda hot though!”

“I know, right?! Anyway, I managed to convince him he was wrong, but it was all kind of downhill from then. Crap, now I’m thinking about him again!”

“Ok, ok, hold on!” Brendon scrambled up out of the seat and disappeared into the bedroom for a minute. He came back, walking with the accentuated grace and poise of a catwalk model, but one that had had a little too much whiskey, wearing a nothing but a mankini, all in an attempt to make her laugh.

“I can’t believe you’ve still got that!” She was laughing despite herself. He took a few turns around the room, resting one foot on the couch and smoking an imaginary pipe like some sort of Victorian gentleman. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him naked before, but she really appreciated how much effort he was putting in to cheering her up. Comical as it was, it gave her the chance to admire his smooth skin and slender frame. Maybe it was the booze softening her state of mine, or the warm familiarity of his presence, but he was getting to her. She couldn’t resist the urge to slap his butt as he glided past her.

“Ooo!” He giggled. “Oh, wait, wait!” He disappeared down the corridor towards the bedroom again.

She shouted after him from her seat. “Anyway, what’s up with your love life. Seeing a particular girl? Or boy maybe?”

Brendon mumbled, head in the wardrobe, just out of her earshot, “I’m just waiting for the right person who’ll watch me play video games while we get drunk…”

She couldn’t quite hear so she wandered down the hall towards the bedroom, curious to see what he was up to anyway.

“You know me”, he continued, clearer now as she got closer, “still an eligible bachelor.” 

“Shameless flirt you mean?” She retorted, but stopped in the doorway at the sight of him, mankini now discarded, walking towards her in red, six-inch heeled shoes and a long, pink chiffon skirt, doing a good job of keeping his balance, despite the effects of the alcohol, and the obvious fact that it wasn’t his usual get-up.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between them. “Flirt? Moi? Why, that there is fightin’ talk. You better watch that purdy mouth of yours cowboy.” He adopted a thick Western drawl, squared up to her, puffing out his bare chest in a futile attempt to be all dominant and masculine. 

Allie took the bait, stepping forward until their bodies were almost touching. She saw his challenge, and raised him a gunfight, growling in a low whisper, “Why don’t you watch it for me?” 

Holding the back of her head with both hands he planted a quick but firm kiss, square on her lips, which definitely shut them both up, for a second anyway.

“I can’t believe you kissed me wearing a skirt and heels!” She announced with mock indignation.

“You can’t believe I kissed you? Or that I did it wearing a skirt and heels?”

“Both!”

He kicked the shoes off, dropped the skirt to the floor and kissed her again. Longer, deeper and definitely not a peck on the lips this time. She felt her legs tremble slightly and was grateful she wasn’t in heels.

“Better?” His voice gruff and his eyelids heavy.

“No. Yes. I mean, I don’t care what you’re wearing, but you’d better put that tongue away or I might not be responsible for my actions.”

Completely naked and clearly aroused, he took her hand and pressed it against his hardening cock.  
“Let me be responsible for your actions,” he commanded. She grasped him and gave a gentle squeeze, feeling the blood pulsing through his shaft. He hissed and nuzzled kisses into her neck. It was her weak spot and he knew it. 

She was struggling to breathe let alone think. “You sure?” She swallowed hard. But he was already undoing her jeans, helping her out of them and sliding her panties down her legs. He rubbed his hand over her mound and down between her legs, and she rocked into the friction of his palm  
while he slid his other hand up her t-shirt and, to her surprise, unhooked her bra in one snap.  
“Oh!” She gasped then giggled.  
He was as surprised that he’d managed it as she was. “Nice.” He gave her his best seductive eyebrows, but unable to maintain the suaveness, his eyes and nose crinkled into his natural smile, giggling at himself. She was used to him chopping and changing between seducer and comedian, it was part of his charm. Someone who could make you laugh one minute and give you orgasms the next was pretty damn special. 

He pulled off her top and she let her bra drop to the floor. Standing behind her, he kissed her neck again, his fingers roamed up her thighs and stomach and then up to her breasts. He teased and rolled her nipples. “Oh god,” she murmured, her breath shaky and her legs even more so. She snaked her arm up behind her, winding it round his neck and up into his hair, fingers playing with the soft, thick strands, his hot mouth on her neck sending pulsing sensations right down to her groin.

As they stumbled towards the bed, their kisses became urgent and breathless. They’d gone too far to stop this, and it was speeding along with the all the wild abandon of a cartoon runaway train, fuelled by liquor and unfinished business. Hands fumbled for lube and condoms in the drawer between kisses and heavy-lidded eyes. 

Allie lay back on the pillow and the room swung into focus with a two-second delay. Brendon’s face appeared above her, hair spilling forward, eyes smouldering. She pulled his face in close to hers, needing to anchor herself for just a second. She looked into his deep brown eyes that looked back at her, seeming to stare right into soul. Without giving her a chance to change her mind, Brendon slid two fingers inside her and her breathing hitched. 

“Oh baby you’re so wet.” His voice was low and raw, eyes now even darker than before. 

He crooked his fingers to just the right angle. Allie’s whole body thrummed with the sensation of him stroking her inside, almost more than she could handle. As she cried out, arching her back off the mattress, she grabbed his wrist, his fingers still inside her, he felt her muscles contracting around them. She searched for his lips and kissed him hungrily, moaning into his mouth as she came down from her high.

Brendon wasn’t ready to let up on her yet and propping himself up on his left arm, he began to run his tongue over her nipple, lapping so softly. That tongue that had started this whole thing in the first place, had a habit of getting them into trouble. But it felt so good. He knew she knew it and she swore she could almost see his mouth curl into a smile as she looked down at him. Slowly sliding the fingers from his right hand out from inside her, he swirled and played with her other nipple.  
She moaned out an appreciative ‘mmm’ as his mouth attended to one side and his fingers to the other.

Then his hand migrated south down her body and between her legs and his fingers began rubbing the perfect circling motion, making her see stars and lose any kind of focus she might have had left. He just wanted to make her feel good and within minutes of his attentive touch she was riding those waves of pleasure again.

Brendon knew he had been a good boy, holding back and tending to Allie, giving her what she needed. Now he was aching, his cock leaking, he stroked himself as he kissed her.

“God, you’re fuckable. But then so am I.” Brendon grinned, kneeling above her, sliding on a condom.

“You’re a sweet-talker,” Allie panted.

“Helps me focus. Singing too, sometimes” he hummed into her ear.

“Bet you couldn’t hit that high C right now” she managed to tease. But she had to bite her lip as he moved his body to between her legs and she felt him pressing against her entrance.

“Hmm, well I’ve already hit one ‘C’, and, I believe, a low G..”

But she couldn’t reply as he tantalisingly slowly slid into her. Still so sensitive from his fingers, as he moved inside her, she felt electricity shoot through every fibre in her body. She couldn’t even pin point where she felt, or what she felt any more, her whole body was flushed with heat, she felt awash with Brendon – feeling him inside her and all over her, the scent and taste of his mouth, watching his glistening chest and hearing his moans – yes, she was a little drunk - but she was intoxicated by him. She wrapped her legs around his torso and clung to his shoulders as he drove deeper into her. She marvelled as she watched his blissed-out expression as he found his release. 

They lay together until they cooled to a chill. Sleepily, Brendon pulled the covers over them. “Three orgasms, huh? What can I say, I’m a gentleman.”

“Two… and a half.” She conceded. “And you’re alright, I guess.” She grinned and snuffled into his neck.

“Told you I’d put a smile on your face.” He said quietly, and practically to the ceiling as Allie was already almost asleep.

\---

In the morning Allie woke up first. She looked at Brendon’s sleeping face, framed by his dark eyebrows, still for once, and a killer jawline, now sprinkled with stubble. His dark hair was cascading over the pillow and those puffy lips looked extra soft. She quickly and quietly got out of bed to shower, trying to ignore the pang of guilt she felt welling in her stomach. The water on her skin was soothing but this hangover was going to kick her butt if she didn’t get some food soon. She pulled on yesterday’s jeans after fishing out fresh underwear and her Bowie t-shirt from her bag. She was thankful that travelling for her work kept her hair short and easy. She mooched around the kitchen hunting for non-existent food but had to settle for a coffee and picked at some M&Ms.

Brendon walked up to the coffee machine in an almost zombie-like state, gave her a peck on the cheek, yawned and scratched his jaw. He looked utterly adorable with his hair sticking out of his head in every direction. He was also stark-bollock naked. He sipped his coffee.  
“Morning, doll.” Brendon’s voice was so deep and husky she felt it in her panties. She took a deep breath and mentally had a stern word with herself. No more of that.

“Hey. How’s your head?” She offered.

He grunted. “Need coffee. Maybe a smoke. A shower and I’ll be good.” He wandered off towards the bathroom. She smiled at his appearance, and her heart melted and broke a little too. She really shouldn’t have let this happen again, even if they were fine after last time.

When he came back a little fresher, Allie tentatively broached the subject first. “So, this isn’t going to be awkward is it?”

“What isn’t, our wedding? Because that’s totally what’s happening now, right?”

The fact he was already joking about it started to reassure her, but she continued. “I just, y’know, don’t think we’re in the same place…”

“Listen, you needed a… distraction” he shrugged, “and I was drunk and it didn’t mean a thing.” He joked.

“Pity sex?!” Allie punched him in the arm.

“No, no.” He softened. “I know you’re looking for Actual Husband Material and I’m, well, the goofball kid from school.” She gave him a pained look. “I’m just yankin’ ya chain. It’s fine. I dunno, maybe it’s like The Deal, sometimes we need this - ” he motioned his hands back and forwards between them, “ - and sometimes we need, that” he pointed to the bedroom. “You know, we’ve got our own Jerry and Elaine thing going on.”

“You’re referencing Seinfeld?” She smiled.

“Or if you prefer, you can just pay me.” He deadpanned. 

Allie punched him again. 

“Ok, ok! Breakfast!” He said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Thank god, I’m starving!”

“Well, you’re buying – in lieu of services rendered.”

Allie guffawed and went to shove him but this time he dodged out of the way. He winked at her and she laughed and hugged him tightly before he could see the tears welling in her eyes, telling him, “I don’t deserve you.” 

\---

They walked down the street to Joan’s on Third, Brendon enthusing about their breakfast burritos but Allie was undecided between eggs or pancakes.

“Get both!” Brendon advised “I’m gonna take a quick look at the desserts. Grab us a table.”

As the waitress showed Allie to their seats, Brendon walked past the line for take-out coffees, and felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled round, “Hey, dude!” 

Allie looked up from their table to see where Brendon had got to, wondering whether to just order for him. He was talking to a nerdy-looking guy in a hat, glasses and a cardigan. Her eyes lingered for a second but she pulled her glance back to the menu as her stomach rumbled for the fiftieth time that morning, the waitress standing by.

“He said he wanted the breakfast burrito… so, I think I’ll go ahead and order him that and a coffee, and I’ll have, um, pancakes, with crispy bacon. And a blueberry milkshake, please!”

Brendon came over as the waitress left. “I ordered, sorry, I was so hungry!” 

“Cool. Me too.”

“Who was that you were talking to?”

“Dude, how hungover are you? That was Patrick!”

“Patrick?” Allie asked, confused.

Brendon put his hand to his mouth to hide a smile. “He’s in this other band, My Chemical Romance, and uh…” He couldn’t keep a straight face and burst out laughing, sniggering to be precise. “Sorry dude, couldn’t help that one. I know you’re always travelling and your art is like, more important to you than stupid emo bands or whatever.”

“I like music! I just can’t keep up with all your rock star friends that’s all.” She looked slightly wounded. “I met Pete once didn’t I? Kinda put me off hanging around celebrities. Not that I was about to start.”

“Yeah, Pete’s cool, he’s grown up a lot lately. And Patrick is nothing like Pete.” The cogs almost visibly began turning in Brendon’s mind. “In fact, you’d probably like him.”

Their food arrived, putting a stop the conversation. Brendon looked up and waved as he saw Patrick collecting his coffee and heading for the door. As he left, Patrick looked back towards their table; once as he opened the door, and again as he walked past the glass window. Allie was too busy tucking into her pancakes to notice, but Brendon noticed, and the cogs clicked into action smoothly, like a well-oiled machine.


	2. The Roxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We catch up with Allie and Brendon a few months later on the day of the second Fall Out Boy reunion gig.

February 7, 2013. The Roxy, Los Angeles

“I can’t believe you convinced me to come out so close to my show opening!” Allie had to shout to Brendon over the excited hubbub of the crowd. “I really should be at the gallery.”

“At night? Come on, you’ve been working there all week. This is gonna be too good to miss!” 

“Well I’m not drinking tonight.” She smiled thinking about their drunken antics a couple of months ago. Brendon gave her shoulder a squeeze. They were loitering around towards the back of the tiny venue as there was nowhere at the side of the miniscule stage to watch from. At least they didn’t have to go backstage. That would have made her feel really uncomfortable. They’d come in at the last minute on Zack’s suggestion to make sure Brendon didn’t, as he put it, ‘distract from the main event’.

“You’re allowed to take a break. And besides, you might meet someone.” Brendon winked.

“I highly doubt it.” Allie rolled her eyes. She was hardly going to meet the love of her life tonight, feeling so out of place and unconfident, a fraud even – what if people noticed she wasn’t singing along? Brendon had given her a quick Fall Out Boy 101 before they got there when she complained she didn’t really know any of their material. But she didn’t have time to dwell on that as the venue lights went down, the stage lights went up and the PA kicked in with a disembodied voice as an introduction. Squeals of anticipation filled the air as four musicians quickly took to the small stage, sat behind drums or picked up guitars and gave each other a high five. 

Allie stood on tip toes looking through phones and cameras thrown in the air and waving arms. Through the intimately sized crowd she recognised Pete, and then sure enough there was Patrick, wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up and the same fedora and glasses he’d been wearing the day that she saw him at breakfast. He definitely stood out, but she was surprised at how her insides fluttered when she saw him up there on the stage.  
She didn’t have any of her camera equipment with her but she felt the urge to hold her phone aloft and zoom in a little closer on that face as he sang. She might have hit the shutter button a few times too.

Pete was spitting water, spinning his guitar, giving the crowd a nod and a wave – they were lapping it up and screaming at his every move. But Allie was entranced by Patrick – he was either the most unlikely rockstar she’d ever seen, or the most punk rock kid ever, she just couldn’t decide. As they worked their way through the first few songs, the crowd singing almost as loudly as him, she liked the way his glasses kept sliding down his nose and he had to keep pushing them back into place. He was mostly restricted by singing and playing guitar, but whenever he could he would throw out some dance moves. She particularly enjoyed it when he commanded the crowd with his hands, pointing to them to sing, and then taking control of the mic again, growling them into submission. She needn’t have worried before, no one was looking her way and she was safe in the shadows enjoying her view and her thoughts. Brendon, in between singing along, was picking up on Allie’s slowly widening eyes and making mental notes.

The raw energy in the room was feverish, primal even. The band were feeding off the audience being so close they could touch them. At one point Patrick high fived the front row, putting his guitar pick in mouth so he could use both hands. The crowd were just so elated to have their band back, and the band were genuinely touched that they were wanted, nothing was taken for granted. Allie found herself warming to Pete as he talked to the audience intelligently, treating them with respect, no entitlement at all. He and Patrick shared heartfelt comments about wanting to give their fans new material and not just take money off them to ‘line their coffers’ by wheeling out a greatest hits tour. They highlighted the importance of their fans to the band’s journey, and empowered them by encouraging them to tell radio stations that they want to hear guitars and rock songs on the radio.

While Pete was talking about being in sweaty rooms listening to rock music, almost emphasising just how sweaty it was in there, Patrick took off his hat and rubbed a towel over his head, mussing his strawberry blonde hair which was now slicked with sweat. He had gradually stripped – first unbuttoning his jacket, then taking it off, discarding the glasses and now the hat, like some kind of burlesque strip-tease. His t-shirt was drenched and Allie bit her lip watching it cling over his chest and shoulders. When they came back on for the encore, he had changed his shirt but she wondered how long it would last before it too was soaked through.

The crowd grew wilder as show went on, with crowd surfers flowing onto the stage as they played their last song. Someone even got on stage to sing with them and security was about to promptly escort them away but it was someone they knew and she stood and sang and hugged Pete as the song finished. The whole ‘anything could happen’ vibe was seriously addictive and Allie was on a high as the played their final notes and walked off stage to a rapturous roar of appreciation and devotion.

Still under their spell as the band left the stage and the elated cheering died down, she felt Brendon tug at her arm. “Come on, we’ve got passes, let’s go say hi!” He was beaming, dark eyes full of mischief.

“Wait, what?” He hadn’t mentioned that part. Having never really been involved in Brendon’s ‘famous friends’ scene, she was sure she’d feel horribly out of place. But his persuasive eyebrows worked their magic and she followed along, shaking her head, wondering what she was letting herself in for.

\---

She got introduced to Pete, Joe, and various crew members who were drinking, discussing the show and seemed elated after performing. They were welcoming – any friend of Brendon’s was a friend of theirs – and she felt herself start to relax. There was a mix of friends and family who had all come to congratulate the band and welcome them back, and the small room was starting to fill up. Brendon searched around the room. “And there’s Patrick talking to Andy”.  
She saw him from behind, arms animated and talking excitedly, mid-conversation. “... I mean Neil Peart did it, went back and reinvented his whole style... anyway, but like, here’s the thing: bigger venues, two drum kits and like, a drum-off – it would absolutely work!” Patrick whirled around as he heard his name. “Hey!” He threw his arm around Brendon who grabbed Andy for a mini group hug.

“That was fucking awesome! I’m stoked you guys are back!” Brendon enthused as Andy got called over to adjudicate a spontaneous game of flip cup that had broken out between Pete and Joe.

“Thanks, man! Good to see you.” Patrick looked at Allie and they held each other’s gaze for just a second longer than socially acceptable before she looked away feeling her cheeks flush. She had a Wayne’s World ‘we’re not worthy’ moment running through her head but managed to snap out of it.

“This is Allie.” Brendon, grinning, looked from Patrick to Allie and back again, waiting for the penny to drop.

“Oh yeah - hey!” Patrick’s smiley eyes twinkled as he shook her hand. “Bowie t-shirt, right?” 

Lost in his lips and mesmerised by the way his teeth met together as he talked, Allie’s brain moved like chilled molasses and she didn’t register that he had remembered her. Eventually something kicked in, or maybe Brendon kicked her, but she realised, ‘shit, he’s asking a question, respond, you idiot!’ “Uh, I think I’m a bit dehydrated”, she managed, “you’re hot, I mean it’s hot, in, in here.”

“Oh, thanks, I mean, pfft. Uh, let me grab you… do you want… I’ll get you some water.” Patrick adjusted his glassed and rushed off to get her a bottle, smiling to himself.

“Smooth move, ex-lax.” Brendon quipped under his breath while Patrick was gone.

“Oh, hush! Why is he making me so flustered?” Allie thought to herself, ‘I KNOW why, because in the last hour and a half my brain has decided I’m attracted to him!’ Patrick was back in a flash, handed her the bottle and stood legs apart, hands shoved in his pockets. Brendon clapped Patrick on the shoulder. “Anyway, great show my man! I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Pete!” Brendon shouted over to the other side of the room and sauntered over to where the laughter was getting raucous.

With a slight nervous laugh, Allie ventured, “So, the show went pretty well?” Patrick responded with a so-so hand gesture as he scrunched up his nose. “What! You’re being too humble!” Allie protested. “That crowd were absolutely losing their minds for you!”

“Oh, the crowd were awesome, I just, I kinda sucked.”

“Not from where I was standing!”

“Oh yeah?” Patrick bit his lip and smiled.

“Well, uh, thanks for the water. You should probably go talk to… everyone…”

Patrick looked disappointed, pouting in a way that simultaneously made Allie’s heart break while making her want to taste that plump bottom lip of his. She tried again. “Aw I just mean, I’m sure there’s a lot of people who want to catch up with you. Don’t feel like you have to talk to me.”

Patrick was nothing if not polite, and so realising some of his friends were waiting, he said, “Ok. But, like, stick around, ok?” Allie looked over at Brendon doing shots with Pete. “Looks like I’m here for a while.”

“You two together?”

“No! No, just friends.”

Patrick nodded happily, giving her a dazzling smile as he walked off to greet everyone.  
Allie exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath the whole time and whirled round biting her fist, now completely unable to contain her ‘oh god, he’s so cute!’ thoughts that were taking over her brain.

After a bit of a reprieve making small talk with some of the crew, but mostly stealing glances at Patrick from a distance, Allie managed to calm her nerves in time to see him heading back over her way. “Brendon says you have an art show opening tomorrow?”

“Photography, yeah…”

“Sounds good!”

“Do you, do you want to come along?”

“Well you came to my show, I think it’s only fair I come to yours, right?”

“Oh, like ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before her brain could veto them. She closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. She honestly had no idea how she functioned sometimes. 

But Patrick was laughing and responded with, “Hey, take a boy to dinner first!”

Her heart was in her mouth hearing that. ‘Did he just totally save me AND flirt back?!’ Allie thought to herself. She took a deep breath and went for it. “Listen, if you actually show up tomorrow I’ll take you out for a steak!”

They shook on it. “Done! But I’m a vegetarian.” He said flashing her a particularly killer smile.

************************************************************************************************************************************************

February 8, 2013. Gallery 1988, Los Angeles, Allie’s exhibition opening

The first solo exhibition of her work at a real gallery was nerve-wracking enough but the thought of Patrick possibly turning up was almost tipping her over the edge. ‘Get a grip, girl,’ she told herself and took a deep breath. People were slowly wondering in, she was relieved they seemed to be making positive noises and giving approving looks, as they helped themselves to glasses of wine, but her stomach was churning. Brendon had had to cancel on her at the last minute as his recording schedule had overrun, so she really had nowhere to hide. The Miles Davis cd she’d chosen to play as background music was helping a little, and she reminded herself that she was in control, and she could handle it. Kind of.  
She was trying to distract herself by chit-chatting to Pippa, the gallery curator, who was talking to her but Allie couldn’t concentrate. She had just seen Patrick walk in and felt a little jolt of electricity zip through her body. She watched him weaving his way through, smiling and doing little nods as he passed people. He was wearing what she now realised must be his signature fedora with black-rimmed glasses, plus a black cardigan teamed with a Fred Perry polo shirt, black jeans and sneakers. When he spotted her, he gave her a little wave and a big smile, and headed straight towards her.

“Sorry, Pip, back in a second.” Allie managed to gasp.

“Of course, darling, you must mingle. Is that Andrew Berardini, I spy?” Pippa headed off towards the art critic, oblivious to Allie’s intentions.

Allie beamed as Patrick reached her, going for a handshake as Patrick went for a cheek-to-cheek kiss, resulting in an awkward combination of the two greetings. Both of them laughed it off and Patrick pushed his cardigan sleeves up his forearms, fidgeting. 

“Hey you made it – long time no see, huh?” She joked.

“Right?!” He adjusted his glasses and motioned his hand around the room. “So, this is pretty crazy – this is all your work?” He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans as he stood and listened.

Allie nodded slowly as she explained. “Yep. This is three years of travelling back and forth to these craft villages in Vietnam, finding fixers, getting my subjects to trust me enough to photograph them as they worked and in their homes; then there’s all the editing and… well, you know all about the creative process.”

“This is seriously impressive; I just put my fingers in places until I like the noise it makes.” He said it with almost a straight face, just the faintest trace of a smile and eyebrow raise. Allie managed to refrain from blurting out ‘that’s what she said’ and stifled a giggle, wondering if he’d said it on purpose to trip her up.  
“Um, yeah so where was I?” She regained composure. “Yeah, I was just fascinated with how the women would carry on working with babies on their backs, and it got me thinking about the drastically different approaches to motherhood around the world. In the West we’ve lost touch with having our babies sleep in same room or even same bed, breastfeeding has declined…” She trailed off, catching herself going on and on about babies – why would he be interested in that? 

But he had a misty look on his face. “No, you’re right, how you bring up kids is super important. I mean, kinda stating the obvious I guess but like, I think about it sometimes, like, I know I’ll be a hands-on dad – when I eventually have kids, that is.” He smiled.

“That’s good to know, I mean, good, good for you… I really want to go to Japan next,” she said, changing the subject, “do some work around the aging population and low birth rate.”

“I love Japan!” He jumped in, excitedly talking with his hands. “Oh man, I love it there, I’ve been trying to learn Japanese - ” He stopped short, lifting his hat slightly to scratch the back of his head, “but enough about me… it’s probably your turn to go talk to everyone, right?”

She nodded somewhat reluctantly, “Ok but stick around, ok?” She mirrored his words from the night before. It didn’t go unnoticed by him and he nodded and smirked.

As Allie was circulating and mingling, she stole a few glances at Patrick who was looking around at her work and reading the captions studiously. ‘Yep, definitely still cute’, she thought to herself. She dutifully networked and was pretty pleased with the overall positive response to her exhibition. She had just made her way back over to Patrick when she overheard someone say “…hardly what you’d call art is it?”

Patrick looked at Allie, his eyebrows raised and mouth open. She shook her head, rolling her eyes and she explained quietly to Patrick, “Some people don’t like work like this in galleries as it’s so close to photojournalism.” 

“Yeah well, don’t listen to jerks like that, there’s no such thing as bad art, just the wrong audience.” He was purposely talking loud enough for the guy who made the comment to hear and she quickly ushered Patrick out of the way, giggling, “Shhh, he’ll hear you!”

“Sorry. No, I’m not sorry, you worked really hard people shouldn’t say stuff like that…”

“Yeah, no, that was sweet of you. Thank you, just don’t want you to get into a fight.”

“I know I’m small but I could totally take that guy. Maybe.” 

She was just thinking how valiant that was and goddamn, could he get any more perfect, when a phone started ringing. Patrick had been ignoring the notifications that had been beeping away while they were talking earlier, but now it was his phone that was ringing and he pulled it out of his pocket to check the display.

“’Scuse me, I’d better get this it’s my girlfr-” Patrick winced as the word stuck in his throat. He hurried out, head down, talking on the phone, “Hey. No, no, don’t come in, I’m coming out…” 

Allie stood there in shock for a second. Girlfriend? The bombshell hit her like a sucker-punch. She wanted the ground to swallow her up. How could she have been so stupid? Of course he’d have a girlfriend! He was just being polite talking to her and being interested in her work. 

Seeing Allie stood on her own, a group of students swarmed her to ask questions about her work ethic and one of them wanted to come and shadow her on her next project. It was all very flattering and she politely answered their questions as best she could for a few minutes but then she really needed to get some air.

Allie stood by the back door of the gallery, and looking across the parking lot she saw Patrick in the distance, talking to what must have been the girlfriend, although she looked anything but friendly. Allie was too far to hear what they were saying but the woman was waving her arms about and shouting hysterically. Patrick had his hands out too, trying to calm her down, or keep her from falling over possibly. Allie couldn’t help watching as the woman threw a set of car keys on the floor, folded her arms in a huff and slumped against the car door. Patrick picked them up and put his hand on her shoulder but she shook him off. She got in the passenger side eventually, then walking round the car with his head hung low, he got in and drove them away.


	3. Pumpkin Squares and Mixtapes

Eastside Los Angeles, February 2013, a few days after Allie’s exhibition opening

Allie had been trying not to think about it, but it was all very intriguing: why had Patrick disappeared so quickly and what had he and the girl been arguing about? She was trying not to over-analyse it, after all he had a girlfriend and that was that. Or so said the rational side of her brain. The irrational, impetuous, lust-filled side kept overflowing, drowning her common sense until she was swimming in thoughts of him, wanting him more because she couldn’t have him. 

When she eventually got to speak to Brendon about it over the phone the next day, he couldn’t believe it.  
“Hold up, are you talking about Melissa?” He practically spat the name out. “He’s still with her? Shit dude, I thought he got rid of her after last time.”  
“I dunno, they didn’t exactly introduce me. So, what’s the story there?”  
“From what Pete told me, that girl is messed up. She got her claws into Patrick when he had a little more padding, shall we say, and just figured she was onto an easy ride. She’d sleep around, go out all night partying and then she’d have him pick her up – and he’d do it! That was the fucked up thing. He thought he was in love, I guess. He did try to break up with her a couple times and she would just show up again the next day – as if nothing had happened! Complete Stacey, ‘psycho hose beast’.” Brendon exhaled as if the whole thing blew his mind.

It kind of blew Allie’s mind too. How could he have such low self-esteem when he was a rock star? He could have his pick of girls every night. She didn’t want to be part of that drama. He’d done her a favour really. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself looking back at the photos on her phone that she’d taken during the gig, and getting a churning sensation in her stomach when she thought about the sound of his voice.

In a bid to restore some of her sanity, she decided to go out record shopping. She had been a bit of a music nerd in her teens, then photography kind of took over. She still loved record hunting and the thrill of discovering something new to fill the gaps in her broad, yet ever evolving collection. Yep, that’s what she needed – an LP spree would be a good distraction. She headed down to Cosmic Vinyl; she loved that there was an independent record store right in her neighbourhood, along with just the right amount of punk-rock atmosphere.

She nearly did an immediate U-turn the second she walked into the shop because stood there, flicking through the soundtrack section, was an unmistakable figure in a leather jacket and fedora. But it was too late – the bell above the door had rung and like Pavlov’s dogs, Patrick’s ear had pricked up in an automated response as he turned to see who had rung it. As their eyes locked, Patrick’s expression immediately sprang to life, his eyebrows shooting up and a smile illuminating his whole face. Allie’s heart spiked and then flat-lined right there in her chest, her bones turned to jello and she felt a pulse between her legs, but on the outside she was poker-face cool, for now. She spoke first.

“Hey you! Small world, huh?”

“I am so glad to see you!” Patrick’s hands conveyed his excitement as much as his voice.

Allie’s palms started sweating, keep it together, she steeled her nerves. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, listen, I owe you an apology – for running out the other night, uh…” He shifted nervously, not sure how to proceed, so he dug his hands into his pockets.

“Oh god, don’t worry about it!” She gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. The leather was soft and warm and she purposefully lingered there, running her fingers slowly down his arm, suddenly wanting to find more excuses to touch him.

“No, that was rude of me,” he continued, “I had to sort some stuff out but I, I felt bad just leaving without saying ‘bye.” He shook his head looking like a small child who had been reprimanded.

“Seriously, it’s fine.” Allie reassured him. “But, uh, I hope everything was ok?” She couldn’t help prying, hoping to get a little insight to what exactly went down. 

He was looking at the floor, chewing on his bottom lip. “Yeah, no, I mean, it’s fine, you know how it is… but, uh, well, here’s the thing: food!”

Allie’s mind raced, trying to keep up with the jump Patrick had apparently just made. Seeing her confused expression, he clarified. “You said you’d buy me dinner if I showed up to your show, remember?” His eyes twinkled. 

With all the unanswered questions and pondering, Allie had completely forgotten about that part, then mentally gave herself a high five for being so forward. She laughed – both at her bold gesture and also at the way the mention of food had seemed to lift his spirits. “Ok then, sure! It’s a little early for dinner, so, wanna go for coffee? Or, let me guess – you don’t drink coffee?” She teased a little, but it was quick thinking, she didn’t want to let him get away now that she had him. 

“Actually, that sounds great right now. And yes, I do – but I prefer tea!” He bit his lip again, but this time it wasn’t with nerves, as he raised one eyebrow and said in a flirty, hushed voice, “But don’t think I’m going to let you back out – you’re still taking me out for the vegetarian equivalent of a steak!” She was counting on it.

A few doors down there was a small, cosy-looking coffee shop. It didn’t look like much from the outside but Patrick swore they did the best pumpkin squares this side of Lake Michigan, second only to his mom’s. He held the door open for her and as she glanced around at the gently-worn, old velvet couches and record sleeves lining the walls, and she could see why he would feel at home somewhere like this. Nat King Cole’s ‘Smile’ was playing as they walked in and she felt as though she’d stepped into an old movie scene.   
“Oh! I love this song!” Patrick’s excitable puppy enthusiasm was infectious. Allie was enjoying the atmosphere so much she really didn’t want to address the elephant in the room, she couldn’t bear to see his face cloud over again like when she’d mentioned it earlier. So instead she opted to keep him in his happy place – food and music. They picked up their order from the counter and headed over to sit down. Patrick was right about the pumpkin squares, she noted as she took a bite.

They chatted making small talk for a bit; him telling her about Chicago and her talking about moving to LA from Vegas and not knowing whether or not it would be permanent as she travelled so much for work, he could relate. As they talked his attention never wandered from her, he kept his gaze fixed on her, listening to every word. It was making her a little hot under the collar, in the best way. His habit of talking with his hands meant he’d brushed her hand, then her arm, and then her thigh and she couldn’t help think he was doing it accidentally on purpose. To give herself a little breather from the eye contact she pointed to his record bag. “So what did you get from Cosmic?”

“I got this – Eddie Harris – he was fantastic, one of his things was, he ran his saxophone through an early synthesizer, so it was the double sound of him playing saxophone and it being triggered by a synthesizer, pretty rad… yeah, oh and the Beetlejuice soundtrack.” He shrugged as if to say everyone should have that in their collection. “Oh, but you didn’t get anything – what were you after?”

“No it’s ok, I wasn’t after anything specific, just looking for a distraction really…” Allie trailed off.

“Distraction from what?”

“Oh just, y’know, thoughts…”

“About?” Patrick pressed.

Allie took a deep breath, she decided it was time to stop skirting around the issue because, good god she was getting lost in that mesmerising mouth, and he seemed at least vaguely interested in her. Time to woman-up and find out where she stood. 

“Well since you asked, I had kind of, sort of been wondering about you and the, uh, ‘shouty lady situation’ the other night.” She winced slightly, worried she might have overstepped the mark. Patrick sighed. 

“Honestly? She’s just plain mean, she’s horrible. She’s a shitty person.” He breathed out slowly and his shoulders relaxed as if he had let go of a huge weight. “I mean, she’s got some problems but maybe I’m not the one to help her figure them out…” He seemed unusually quiet. 

Allie could see that him admitting that was a big deal for him and she nodded and spoke softly. “Hey it’s ok, I get it, no one deserves to be treated like crap, no matter what the other person is going through.” She paused. “Listen to what’s playing, I love this song.”

“Aw yeah – you can’t be sad when there’s an Earth Wind and Fire song on, they’re so uplifting. See, that’s another thing – she’s never appreciated my music taste. She just thought I should listen to pop-punk and emo all the time, fuckin’ emo…” he shook his head. “I guarantee you, no band, well, it’s very rare that a band listens exclusively to the music they make. I’m sure that like, one of the guys in AC/DC listens to classical music, that doesn’t mean that, like, y’know, uh, well maybe not AC/DC, but you know, whatever… ”

They shifted back to talking about music, realising they shared a love for a lot of the same artists. Discussing the finer points of Prince’s albums, they couldn’t agree on which was the best but they’d got a similar top ten.

“Ok then Mr musical genius,” she tapped his thigh playfully and purposely left her hand there for a second too long. “If you were going to make me a mixtape, what would you put on it? And just so you know, I would want like an actual, physical tape y’know? Old school.” Allie smiled. Outright, blatantly flirted if she was being honest. You don’t make a mixtape for just anyone, or you didn’t in her day. She was interested to see if he took the bait.

“Mixtape huh?” He bit his lip. “But are you going to have anything to play it on? That’s the question.” Patrick worried and she stifled a smile at his pedantic nature but encouraged him, “Yes, actually!”

“Ok, so, so… well, I think crooners – across the board, and like, maybe jazz. I’d stick with jazz but like definitely not like fusion or free jazz, but like there’s some non-pretentious early Miles that would fit, there’s plenty of mood setters or, or like, there’s so many directions that would totally work.” 

Allie smiled and nodded encouragement. She liked the way he could never quite make up his mind about how to finish a sentence, and seemed to change direction half way through talking. He moved closer towards her. His voice got deeper and his eyes darkened. His face was getting closer and closer to Allie’s as he continued. “It’s tough because, like you don’t wanna go with slow jams because a lot of the good ones are very, very dirty.” There was almost some kind of inevitable force compelling them, but he couldn’t stop talking, nervously stalling. “But I don’t wanna try and impress you with, like, my hipster stuff, because playing elitist with each other early on, that’s never going to work, that doesn’t last, so, so…” And then he kissed her. Or she kissed him, who knows, it happened so quickly but tongues were definitely roaming. Allie’s stomach flipped feeling the warmth of his mouth on hers and the thrill of tasting someone new and unfamiliar and then just as quickly as it began, it was over. 

They stopped and looked at each other for a second and Patrick quietly spoke. “Uh oh, guess this means I’m a… I’m a cheat!” He gave a confused laugh, but with a determined look in his eye, jumped up, almost sent the table flying and announced dramatically there was something he had to do. Allie, somewhat flustered herself, smoothed her hair and began to realise that boy was running out on her again! Before she could say anything, he had turned back to quickly ask for her number, then gave her a peck on the cheek before he darted out, promising to call her. This had better not turn into a habit. At least he’d explained this time. Kind of. 

******************************************************************************************************************************************

A few hours later Allie was checking her refrigerator and debating getting take-out when her phone rang. She gasped as she looked at the unknown number on the display.  
“Hello?”  
“Allie? It’s Patrick.” Her stomach somersaulted at the sound of him saying her name. He sounded out of breath, she imagined him pacing up and down.  
“Hi! What’s up?”  
“Well, I did it! I finally told her where to go. I said I wanted her stupid French romanticising, trivial bullshit out of my house! And she, she went! She’s out of my life! For good this time. I’m done.”  
“Wow! That’s cra-, I mean, good for you!” She chuckled, amazed and relieved that he’d finally grown a set.   
Then almost reading her mind he added, “Yeah I guess I finally met someone who inspired me to be myself. So stop whatever you’re doing, we’re going out to celebrate!”  
She could almost hear him strutting about like a peacock now. Hmm, a bossy side too? Interesting. She looked at the meagre contents of her fridge – it was a no brainer.  
“You gonna pick me up?”   
“Of course! See you at 8?”  
“Perfect. You’ll be needing my address then…”  
“Oh, yeah” he giggled.

The fact that this was happening at all was pretty surreal – their first date – as Patrick had called it. She could have swooned it was actually kind of romantic. When they got the bill Patrick was about to pay but Allie put her foot down – it was supposed to be on her after all, but he wouldn’t hear of it so they compromised on splitting it. 

“So uh, I guess I’d better call a cab and get home…” Allie tested the water.

“Listen miss,” Patrick whispered into her ear, “you’ve got me, all to yourself now. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m going to do something I’ve been wanting to do since that day I saw you eating pancakes.” He ran two fingers over the syrup swirled on his plate of dessert and beckoned her towards him with them, syrup dripping down his fingers. She looked on amazed and instantly aroused. She glanced around but didn’t care that someone might see her perform this lewd act in public as she grabbed his wrist and sucked his fingers, then licked down to catch the drips that had made their way down the back of his hand. This was a good start. His whole innocent, butter-wouldn’t-melt exterior was concealing an altogether more sinful treat that she couldn’t wait to unwrap.

Giggling and conspiring together, they quickly figured out that her place was closest and as he drove them back, he tried he best to keep his eyes on the road and hands on the wheel. When they got out of the car, Patrick grabbed his backpack and Allie smirked at how confident he’d been that this was how things would end up. 

They barely made it to the bedroom. He slammed her against the door, kissing her feverishly, groping and grabbing her as she pulled off his jacket. They were acting like teenagers and she didn’t care – this was all kinds of fantasy-level hotness and she was totally swept up. She was enjoying the benefits of Patrick letting go of years of pent-up frustration and he seemed to be enjoying his new-found assertiveness.

She didn’t want his hands to leave her body or his lips to leave her mouth. She fumbled for the handle and they tumbled into the room. He kicked off his sneakers and socks and tossed his hat and glasses while she peeled off her dress, leaving her very suddenly in just her underwear, with him still clad head to toe in black pants, an unbuttoned shirt and t-shirt.

Allie’s heart was pounding as Patrick took her hand and led her to the bed. He sat on the edge and pulled her to sit down backwards onto his lap, slowly sliding her legs apart by running his hands along the insides of her thighs. They were facing the large mirrored sliding doors of the wardrobe and she looked at herself sitting on his lap, as he kissed her neck their eyes met in the mirror, it was intoxicating. He unhooked her bra and discarded it and his fingers began circling her nipples. Watching herself so exposed and at his mercy was driving her wild. She threw her head back moaning and snaked her left hand around his neck and into his hair as she turned her head towards his to reach his mouth, she needed those soft, plump lips on hers. She felt a throbbing ache between her legs, desperately shifting to find some relief as her right hand absent-mindedly pressed and rubbed through her underwear. He told her he wanted her to touch herself and she didn’t need to be asked twice. Although part of her wanted to find out what he’d do if she disobeyed his order, she readily slipped her hand into her panties.

He adjusted himself and she could feel his cock straining against the material of his pants and pressing into the small of her back. As her fingers caressed the area she knew so well, his were making swirling movements on the inside of her thighs. His fingers there would be almost enough, his feathery strokes stimulating the nerves, but with her own touch and him watching her, she was sure she would come in seconds. Just as she was climbing towards her orgasm, he grabbed her wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he waved a finger at her, “not yet. I can see I’m going to have to pay close attention to you. You’ve got me all hot and bothered, I need to at least get you a little more worked up before I get you off.” His mouth was so close to her ear she could feel his breath on her already hot skin and his voice at close range almost sent her over the edge.

He got her to lie down on the bed while he unbuckled his leather belt and slid it slowly out of the belt loops on his pants. He folded it in half, keeping one thumb in the middle and holding the two ends in his other hand, so that as he pulled it taught it made a loud ‘smack’ sound. Her breathing faltered as she watched in anticipation. 

He undid the top button of his pants and, ‘Finally’, she thought, but instead of taking them off, he took her wrists and positioned them together and began winding the belt around them, tying the two ends into a knot of sorts. It wasn’t especially tight, she could probably wriggle out if she tried, but nonetheless it was a message, a signal, he was running this show, he was her frontman now.

He peeled her panties down and pushed her legs apart and she felt that delicious tongue along the insides of her thighs, making her gasp and moan. Then he began slowly lapping over her engorged folds, moving slow and steady as he reached where she was primed and ready to explode. He coaxed her to ride out the pleasure but she couldn’t hold on any longer, his mouth was too talented, and she cried out in ecstatic raptures. 

As she lay panting and writhing in pleasure, she watched him ditch the remainder of his clothes and put on the condom she’d fetched out of the drawer. His hair fell forward over his forehead and she marvelled at his handsome profile. He pulled his mouth down into a sultry frown, cheekbones protruding… if looks could kill she was pretty sure she’d be lying on a cold slab right now. Luckily, she was spread eagled on a soft, inviting bed. 

But as Patrick untied the belt from her hands he asked, “Are you sure about this?”

“Little late in the day for that question isn’t it?” She sniggered, but his insecurities tugged at her heart strings and she held his face in her hands and looked into his eyes to tell him, “This is exactly what I want – you – you are what I want – just as you are.”

That seemed to be all the reassurance he needed to hear as she felt his cock twitch against her thigh. He hadn’t given a second thought to making her feel good but he had to give himself permission for his own pleasure – she made a mental note that she would get this boy’s self-esteem levels in check, pronto.

His hips thrust slowly at first, she was still sensitive from her orgasm, and it allowed her to feel every single sensation, slowly, so slowly his thick cock sank inch by inch, teasing himself, holding himself back and allowing her to open up. His mouth hung open as he moaned, rocking steadily back and forth now, she looked up at him, sweat beading on his brow and pupils blown. He bit his lip and closed his eyes as all the years he’d fooled himself with cold embraces and half-hearted kisses were now completely behind him and Allie’s warm hands gently caressed his back and shoulders.

Then she kissed, licked and nipped at his jaw and neck just under his ear which sent him wild and he began to thrust into her with everything he’d got. He pushed her knees up to her shoulders to sink deeper into her. Her strokes along his back turned into nails dragging over his skin as she took him all in. Barely able to kiss because they were panting so much, their mouths still searching for one another. He was sweating almost as much as when she’d seen him on stage, only now there were no clothes to soak it up and his skin glistened with moisture. 

He breathed in, sucking the air through his teeth then moaning it out. She thought he sounded seductive on stage but hearing him moan into her ear nearly made her lose her mind. His voice was raw and dripping with pleasure, pleasure that she was creating for him, it was such a deep connection she felt it in every molecule. It was almost too intense to comprehend – certainly in the moment, and she thought she’d found the definition of mind-blowing sex. Right when she thought she couldn’t take any more she felt his fingers hit the spot she needed. He bit down on his lower lip, eyes clenched shut, eyebrows knitting together as he let out a final groan. She watched him come undone as she climaxed again and his name spilled from her lips as they struggled to catch their breath.

In the morning she woke up first and almost made a joke about him not running out on her this time, but she didn’t want to tease. Instead she put a cup of tea down for him and snuggled back in, warming up against his back. He stirred making sleepy, satisfied noises and grabbed her arm, pulling it around his chest. Eventually he reluctantly hauled himself up, mooched around for his glasses and took a sip of tea, which immediately steamed up his lenses. He fished around in his leather jacket pocket and got back into bed next to her. “I forgot to give you something last night.”

She did a quick mental calculation. “You did pretty good, actually.” 

Patrick’s cheeks flushed pink. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from. But I mean this.” He handed her a mixtape – an actual freaking cassette. She was beside herself, grinning like a loon. “When did you have time to do this?” 

“Oh I’ve been adding to it for a couple of days.”

“You mean when I joked about it, you’d already –”

He grinned and nodded. “And in case you didn’t have anything to play it on, I made a back-up version on Spotify.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or kiss him, but a combination of all three seemed to be an involuntary reaction. Her heart was swelling in her chest and it appeared something on someone else was swelling under the covers and they slid back down determined not to leave the bed until it was completely and absolutely necessary.


End file.
